


at the right pitch

by thisissirius



Series: the trees of vermont [6]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Avalanches, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25227823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: There are six rules to give yourself a chance to survive an avalanche.A chance. Not even survive. Just a chance.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: the trees of vermont [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790356
Comments: 19
Kudos: 240





	at the right pitch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elisela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/gifts).



> because eli's always waiting for something from me lmao. 
> 
> this is.... shorter than i would have liked, but it was like pulling teeth at the end. i hope it still works.

_There are six rules to give yourself a chance to survive an avalanche._

_A chance. Not even_ survive _. Just a chance._

“Are you sure about this?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at Buck’s question. It’s the fourth time he’s asked. “Yes, Buck. I’m sure. Take Chris and have fun.”

“You could come too,” Buck says, also for the fourth time. “It’s skiing!”

Chris giggles. “Dad doesn’t do snow, Bucky, don’t be silly.”

Making a face, Eddie sticks out his tongue, sending Chris into another giggling fit as he gives Eddie a hug. Eddie kisses the top of his head. “I have stuff to do anyway.”

Buck’s expression morphs into a grin. “I forgot. Tell Vera I’ll be round on Wednesday to fix her beams.”

“You better not be touching her beams,” Eddie says.

“That’s not even—”

“What?”

“This is like yolo all over again,” Buck mutters. “Eddie, beams isn’t even slang.”

Eddie frowns. “Urban Dictionary told me it was taking MDMA.”

Buck snorts, rubbing at his face. “Please stay off Urban Dictionary. Chim hasn’t let me live it down the last time you went on a binge.”

Thankfully, Chris chooses that moment to get impatient and stand by the door with a huff. “Buck!”

“Coming,” Buck tells him, hand on Eddie’s hip as he tugs him forward. “Love you.”

Eddie leans in for a kiss, closes his eyes. This is something he’ll never get bored of. Kissing Buck is like a revelation every time. He takes it slow, hand on the back of Buck’s head, holding him in place. It won’t take long for Chris to get bored of waiting—and he’s already impatient—so Eddie pulls back, grinning at the dazed look on Buck’s face. “I love you, too.”

Buck nods, blinking a couple of times, before blinding Eddie with the force of his smile. “See you later!”

_They’re scary things; people can die in three feet of snow._

“Is that everything?” Eddie puts the last of Vera’s grocery bags on the counter. “Need anything else?”

“Only your Buck to help with the beams.” Vera is in her late seventies, but she looks as fit and healthy as anybody else in Vermont. Her hair’s pulled up in a ponytail and Eddie can’t stop staring at a tuft of hair that’s sticking out of the hairband. “Eddie?”

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie says, flushing. He keeps getting distracted today. He puts it down to the fact that Buck and Chris are gone and his mind is wandering. “He says Wednesday if that works for you?”

Vera consults her diary, letting out her hair with her free hand, nails tapping on the paper. “Wednesday morning’s fine.”

They do the usual song of dance of her offering money and Eddie refusing. He does this with everybody he runs errands for and he’s not about to charge anybody when he’s not doing it because it’s a _job_. He’s just—bored, not lonely, thank you very much, Bobby Nash. “Great. I’ll see you next week, same time?”

Vera waves him out of the driveway, and Eddie turns on to Main Street. His music starts up almost immediately, and he checks his messages. Nothing. It’s not unusual; sometimes Buck and Chris get so caught up in what they’re doing, that they forget to check in with Eddie. They’ll do it at lunch, and again just before they’re due to come home.

 _You better get him home on time,_ Eddie texts, _or you’ll have to move out._

He thinks of sending an emoji after the message has gone because he never knows whether Buck can read his joking tone over text, but he shrugs. He can always kiss it better later.

_My son and boyfriend were caught in an avalanche._

When he’s done with the two errands he had planned in the morning, Eddie decides to head back home before taking lunch in town. Bobby’s is open, as usual, and there’s not a lot in the house that he wants to eat. Instead, he decides to grab his notepad. There’s no new book on the horizon, but he does have a blog that needs updating. He’s just rifling through his desk for a few pens that haven’t run dry when his doorbell goes.

“It’s open!”

There’s the sound of boots on the stairs, and Eddie pokes his head out of the door to see Hen coming up on the landing. She looks breathless, wide-eyed, and something tight squeezes his chest.

“Is it S&R?”

“Eddie,” Hen says, and Eddie’s mind goes blank.

“What,” Eddie starts.

“There’s been an avalanche.”

Eddie drops the pens.

_Move to the side. Don’t try to outrun it._

Hen’s giving Eddie the run down that he knows he should be listening to, but he can’t stop his internal freak out. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels slightly sick. He takes in the important parts; _Avalanche. Killington. Unknown casualties._

Buck and Chris are at Killington.

“I can’t breathe,” Eddie says. He knows what this is; he immediately slows his breathing, closes his eyes and tries to focus. He needs to get his shit together. Buck and Chris need him to have his shit together. Other people need him to have his shit together. He’s part of Search and Rescue.

“Eddie,” Hen says gently. “You don’t have to be here.”

“I hope you’re joking,” Eddie says. “I’m not sitting at home while Chris and Buck—”

When they climb out of the helicopter and they join the rest of their team, Bobby tries the same thing.

“Eddie, I think you should—”

“I’ve heard it from Hen,” Eddie snaps. “If you think I’m going to sit down here and wait for you to find my son, you’re mistaken!”

Bobby sighs. “I understand, but this requires focus.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Wait,” Chim says. He’s already in his gear, and as he’s tugging on his gloves, he gives Bobby a look. “We all know Buck. You can’t sit us all out.”

Hen looks apologetic. “It’s different and you know it.”

“Really?” Eddie’s not sure what he did to have Chim in his corner, but he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. “You sitting this out too, Bobby? He’s over at yours weekly for cooking lessons. He works for me. Maybe you can find him yourself, Hen, I’m not sure you spend much time with him one on one.”

It’s a low blow and Eddie feels a sense of satisfaction that it works; Bobby looks hurt, but resigned, and Hen looks more determined than she did before. A couple of the other guys are shifting from foot to foot, eager to get on.

“Gear up,” Bobby says, ignoring the rest of it, but he doesn’t say anything else to Eddie.

They’re immediately in motion.

_Grab something sturdy._

When Eddie’s done, ready to head out, he finds the quietest spot he can out of the way. It’s been a long time since he prayed; he knows his abuela would chastise him if she were here, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. It’s not a prayer, as much as it’s an appeal to Mary, a loving mother, who he hopes feels his conviction.

 _I swear_ , _if you keep my son safe, if you watch over him, if you help me find him, I will go to Mass every sunday._

When he’s done, he goes out to join the rest of his crew.

_Swim._

“Concentrate on the green runs,” Eddie says. “Buck wouldn’t take Chris anywhere but there, and he’d use one of the shorter ones.”

“How can you be sure?” A voice pipes up from the back.

“Buck cares about my son, you—”

“Eddie,” Bobby says, tone hard. “Right, we’ll check them all, including the outlying treelines; we can’t guarantee they’ll have stuck to the run. The snow might have pushed them deeper into the trails, so we keep a coordinated search, do you understand?”

Eddie knows the last is aimed primarily at him and he nods, jaw locked against saying anything. He doesn’t like this; he knows he can’t just run off and look for Chris on his own. It’s not going to help Chris, and he’d just put other people in danger, because of course his friends would try and search for him.

“Eddie,” Bobby says, catching hold of his elbow. “I’m not sitting you out, but if you need to take five, you tell me, you understand? Don’t put anybody else at danger; I need to know if you’re not 100% in this.”

There’s no way he can be 100% in this, but Eddie doesn’t say as much. They both know it, Bobby’s just asking him to be mostly present in the moment, and how can Eddie do anything else? He needs to be on the search team, and needs to find his son. “Okay.”

_Create room to breathe._

Eddie can’t breathe.

The trees are thick on the runs, even the green, and Eddie isn’t sure he can handle how difficult it’s making the search. They’re doing the best they can, scoping out the terrain and keeping tight to the treeline. People are coming out of the snow, shaken and injured, but alive, and it gives Eddie a little bit of hope.

That doesn’t stop his chest being tight, doesn’t keep him from failing to catch his breath sometimes. It’s a hard job anyway, but when he’s got fear constantly pressing him down, he doesn’t know how to make himself keep going.

“Eddie,” Chim says, slapping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Focus on each person at a time, alright? Chris _will_ be found.”

It’s not a promise Chim can make, but Eddie can’t bring himself to be mad about it. He needs to hear it, needs to believe that his son _will_ be okay, that he’ll be able to take him home tonight.

There’s a focus there, and Eddie’s grateful that Chim’s giving him something to do. Concentrate on each person. Find Chris. Get the fuck off this mountain.

_Stay Calm_.

Chris.

_Chris._

Eddie stumbles through the snow towards a cluster of trees. One’s bent and broken, branches split down the middle, but Chris is propped up against another, huddled in his coat, snow sticking in his hair, glasses missing. “Chris!”

“Dad!”

Fuck. Eddie skids to his knees in the snow, wanting to drag Chris into his arms but making sure to check Chris over for injuries first. “Are you hurt?”

Chris shakes his head, arms around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie’s never been so grateful for anything in his entire life. He owes Mary a shit ton of Sunday Masses.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Eddie whispers over and over, burying his face in Chris’ wet hair. Chris mumbles something into his neck, but Eddie doesn’t want to pull away to hear it.

“Is he okay?”

It’s Hen, Eddie realizes, and he pulls back. “Yeah,” he says, touching Christopher’s face. “You lost your glasses.”

“They fell off when we were falling,” Chris says, clutching at Eddie’s jacket. “Buck shoved me up so I wouldn’t get taken away by the slide.”

Oh, Eddie thinks, oh no.

_My boyfriend is—_

_I don’t know how to explain him. How to convey the kinds of things he makes me feel. The first day he showed up at my house, he looked at my son like he was the only person there, and treated him with the kind of respect you’d reserve for adults._

_That’s the day I realized how easy it would be to fall in love with him._

_Since then, every day has been a blessing. I know how lucky I am to have him in my life, how amazing our future is going to be together._

_My boyfriend, who constantly put my son before himself, who I didn’t think of during my initial S &R sweep of the mountains. _

_I forgot Buck._

The words repeat on a loop in Eddie’s head as he pushes on through the snow. Hen, Bobby, and a couple other guys are with them, and Eddie’s trying to ignore the pointed looks Hen and Bobby keep exchanging. There’s no room in his head for anything except the slowly building horror.

So focused on Chris that he forgets Buck?

Eddie curses under his breath, almost stumbles in a drift and feels his eyes burn. Fuck, fuck.

Chris is safe, Eddie tells himself. He’s with Chim and he’s getting help. That doesn’t calm Eddie’s racing heart, or the fact that the area they found Chris is so covered with snow that even if Buck managed to survive the avalanche, he’s buried.

_Stop it. Buck’s fine._

If he’s not fine, Eddie doesn’t think he will be again.

_Losing my boyfriend would have broken me._

_This is something I have thought many, many times over the last few days._

_I talk about him a lot during blog posts. I post pictures of the back of his head. I think about him all the time. Besides my son, B is the best person in my life. I love him. So much that sometimes it scares me the things I would do or beg for to have him safe._

_Which makes what happened during the avalanche that much worse._

Eddie pushes himself on. It’s starting to snow, and he knows this is a bad thing: if they don’t find Buck soon, the snow will bury him and he’ll be out here all alone, dying, because Eddie didn’t pray hard enough, because he didn’t come with them because of his stupid hatred of snow.

So distracted by thoughts, he almost trips over it;

Something gets caught on his foot and he looks down angrily, ready to toss whatever it is. Later, Hen will tell him the noise he makes terrifies her. Later, she’ll say she knew he’d found something of Buck’s because of the expression on his face.

As he stares at the pink jacket Buck’s proud of having found, Eddie almost throws up.

“Eddie,” Hen says.

“I told him to move out,” Eddie says, sounding panicked, unable to look away from the jacket. “It was a joke but what if he doesn’t know that? What if—”

“Hey,” Hen interects.

Eddie opens his mouth to reply, when there’s a yell from down the run.

“We’ve got him!”

_We went shopping._

_B’s obsessed with researching things and he told me bright colors work on the mountains because they’re easy to spot. I don’t think he ever thought he’d actually be stuck in an avalanche, but I have never been more grateful for B’s research streak._

_Or the pink jacket he tried to convince me would save his life one day._

Eddie immediately scrambles towards his voice, clutching the pink jacket in his hands. He needs to release it, but he can’t force his fingers to let go. Bobby and another guy—Eddie thinks it’s Paul from the gas station—are digging through the snow. He drops to his knees next to them, jams the pink jacket under his knee, and helps.

“Buck?”

There’s nothing.

Eddie’s heart is in his mouth. His fingers feel like they’re freezing even though he’s wearing gloves. He can’t feel anything, isn’t even sure he’s actually present, but then they’re breaking through—

_Create room to breathe._

Eddie trembles as they’re careful with the snow, and there he is.

“Buck,” Eddie says, voice shaky.

Buck’s face is pink, blood matting his hair, and leg twisted at an unnatural angle. He looks pained, but as soon as he sees Eddie, something breaks in his face. His eyes are wet and Eddie tries to listen to Bobby’s instructions, but as soon as he’s got his hands on Buck’s face, he’s cradling him gently and Buck’s sobbing into his shoulder.

“Chris?” Buck is saying through his cries. “Did you find Chris? Eddie, did you—”

“We did,” Eddie says, repeats it twice. “I swear, we have him.”

Buck sags into Eddie’s hold, as if whatever’s been keeping him going is gone.

_Guilt._

_It’s an emotion I am, unfortunately, very familiar with._

Eddie only wonders for a beat if he should stay and help with the rescue effort.

“Go,” Bobby says, a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. His grip is tight and Eddie lets himself relax a fraction, before he’s shouldering the weight and standing straighter. There’s something knowing in Bobby’s expression and he sighs, gesturing over his shoulder. “Your boys need you.”

It doesn’t take much more than that;

Eddie clambers into the helicopter next to Buck, keeping out of the way of the EMTs, but clasping Buck’s cold hand in his own gloved ones.

“Chris,” Buck slurs.

“He’s safe,” Eddie promised. “When we get to the hospital, you can see him, okay?”

“M’sorry,” Buck says. “Lost him.”

Eddie’s chest constricts. “Buck, you _saved_ him. He’s alive because you—”

Buck starts slipping, eyes closing.

“Hey,” Eddie says, panicked. “Buck, look at me, okay?”

Slowly, Buck’s eyes open again, half-lidded. “Eddie. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not, I promise. Just keep talking to me, okay?”

Buck shakes his head, winces. His head looks painful and Eddie tugs off his glove, knows his hands are warm when Buck hisses through his teeth, presses into Eddie’s touch. Eddie traces his fingers over Buck’s hair, exposing the wound. The EMT cleans it up, and Eddie tries to focus on Buck’s eyes. He’s looking at Eddie, sleepy and pained.

Eddie talks about everything and nothing; he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, but Buck’s paying attention the entire time.

“I love you,” Eddie says, shaky.

“Same,” Buck manages, squeezing Eddie’s hand weakly. “N’Chris.”

 _Soon_ , Eddie thinks. Soon, he’ll have Chris in his arms, Buck can see that he’s okay, and they can go home.

_Emotions are still hard for me._

_I might be better at expressing them; leaving notes for B, sending emails and texts, through physical touch._

_They're still not easy for me to release when they're almost overwhelming._

_Like the guilt I had over the avalanche. The worry, the stress, the fear. It gets too much, becomes some huge mess in my chest._

_It's like stepping on a landmine; there's always an explosion._

When Eddie comes back from the cafeteria, drinks and donuts balanced in his hands, he can hear Buck’s voice coming out of the room. “—broken leg and a concussion. Have to stay in overnight but then I can go home.”

Taking a deep breath before he enters the room, Eddie pastes a smile on his face and rolls his eyes as he pushes open the door. “Where I’ll be forced to wait on you hand and foot.”

Buck sticks out his tongue. It’s childish and ridiculous but Eddie’s just grateful to have him alive. Chris is perched next to him on the bed, injury free but exhausted, and he’s already starting to list sideways against Buck.

“Well, I for one am glad you’re alive,” Chim says, folding his arms over his chest. “Though I’m sure Vera’s gonna complain about her beams.”

Eyes lighting up, Buck says, “I have something to tell you about that,” and Eddie knows he can’t stay in the room. He hands out the drinks, ignoring the words spilling into the air around him, and then takes a breath, exits the room. He gets a few feet down the hall before he has to press his head against the wall, clench his hands into fists so they stop shaking.

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Eddie?”

Straightening up, Eddie swipes at his face. “Hen. Hey.”

Hen stares at him and Eddie feels as if he’s falling open in front of her eyes. He can’t stop his eyes stinging, can’t make the shaking stop. Hen touches his arm, guides him towards a couple of chairs. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t,” Eddie starts. He closes his eyes; easier to talk if he’s not staring at anything. “We joked this morning and it’s not that long ago but it feels like it. Like—he was stuck in the snow and I didn’t, I didn’t think about him.”

“Eddie.”

The way she says his voice has him bristling. “I prayed for Chris! I asked Mary to watch over him and protect him and I didn’t think about Chris! What the fuck kind of boyfriend does that make me?”

“One who has a son,” Hen says, and she sounds to infuriatingly calm. Eddie hates her, suddenly and with vehemence. She seems to sense it. “Go on.”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it. He deflates, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t do this.”

Hen touches his shoulder, forces him to look at her. Her expression is hard, and her grip is tight. “You listen to me, Diaz.” Eddie immediately straightens, cursing his military background. “You’re going to take Chris home. Then, tomorrow, you’re going to take Buck home and the three of you are going to heal. It won’t be right away, it will be hard, but you will heal. In the meantime, you tell Buck about this, you hear me?”

“No,” Eddie says immediately, then winces. “I mean—the rest, the taking care of them, that I can do but Buck can’t—he can’t know, I can’t—”

“Eventually,” Hen allows. “You have to tell him.”

Eddie promises with a nod. If he doesn’t give her a timeframe, he doesn’t actually have to do it.

_Making promises is something I don't take lightly._

_I might promised one thing to a friend, and promised myself something different._

_They conflict, I figure it out._

_This time, with the avalanche in the back of my head, B injured, and my son recovering from the emotional trauma—_

_My promises meant nothing._

They make it work;

Over the next couple of days, they get the house sorted. Buck sleeps downstairs in the guest room. It’s close to everything Buck needs, giving him ease of access. Chris is excited to have Buck close, and for the first two nights, he prefers to wander out into the living room and curl up next to Buck instead of calling for Eddie. The touch of jealousy is expected because Eddie’s a father. He can’t help but want to comfort his son, but he wasn’t on the mountain. Chris and Buck share something he can never understand, and he’s grateful Chris has someone, even if he can’t help in that way.

Buck seems reluctant to let Eddie out of his sight for long.

“It’s a good thing I don’t have a day job,” Eddie jokes.

Buck’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and Eddie stops joking about it. He stays within reach, though, except for nights. He needs that time for himself, to forgo sleep. His brain won’t let him; he can’t stop turning over his thoughts, worry for Buck, for Chris—fear that if they’d taken just a few more minutes, hours, a day—

If there’s one thing Eddie’s heart can’t handle it’s how close Buck and Chris are; there’s always been a tentativeness between Chris and Buck. They adore each other, that he knows, but Buck’s always been a touch reluctant to lead, always searching Eddie out for permission. Now, with Chris seeking out Buck, it’s as if he’s forgotten his own reticence.

Eddie loves that he’s so confident, and even if he doesn’t know—and doesn’t ever want to know—what happened on the mountain, some good came out of it.

_[B & my son asleep on the couch.]_

On his fifth night at home, Eddie retreats to his bedroom. He’s exhausted. Buck’s gotta have noticed by now. His eyes look awful when he does his bathroom routine, and even Chris is starting to notice that Eddie’s tired.

He can’t even help his son and boyfriend properly.

Falling onto the bed face first, Eddie curses when his phone starts to ring. He peeks at it, frowns at _Sophia_ on the screen and immediately answers. “Everything okay?”

“What’s going on inside that head of yours, Bromundo?”

Eddie doesn’t have it in him to get mad about the nickname. He buries his face in his pillow. “Did Chris call you?”

“Nope,” Sophia says, but doesn’t elaborate about who did. “Eddie, this wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe if I’d been there,” Eddie starts.

“You’d have been hurt too, or worse,” Sophia interrupts. “I love you, Eddie, but you can’t stop a natural disaster.”

Eddie doesn’t know what makes him say it to Sophia of all people. “I prayed for Chris, but not for him.”

“Eddie,” Sophia sounds distraught. “You’re not a bad person or even responsible.”

“I feel like it,” Eddie mumbles. His chest hurts. He hurts, but that’s nothing to what Chris and Buck have been through. Eddie can take it; he’s done worse. “I just hate that if he’d died—”

“But he didn’t,” Sophia says. “Eddie, he didn’t.”

Eddie feels his eyes burn with tears and breathes out slowly. “I have to go.”

“Eddie—”

Eddie hangs up.

_B says my book changed his life._

_I think he’s repaid the favour tenfold._

The worst thing is, Buck doesn’t even blame him.

He doesn’t say as much; Eddie isn’t stupid enough to reveal how he feels, even though he thinks maybe it’s written all over his face. Buck treats him the same as always. He lets Eddie help him around the house while his leg’s healing, he jokes and smiles like he used to, except there are moments when he looks far away, or jumps at the slightest provocation. If not for those things, Eddie might think he was totally fine.

“Buck,” he starts one day. They’re on the couch in the living room. The fire’s on, the crackle of it loud in the silence of the room. Buck’s got his legs in Eddie’s lap, and Eddie’s cradling Buck’s cast in his hands gently. There are childish scribbles along one side, crude drawings courtesy of Christopher and Chim both, and a host of get well messages from other people. “If there was something wrong—you’d talk to me?”

Buck looks away from his book, the dogeared pages a tell-tale sign that Eddie thinks it’s one of the thrift store romance novels, and holds his finger on the page. “What?”

“If,” Eddie says, making a face, “You weren’t feeling okay, you’d tell me?”

Buck frowns, and there’s something knowing in his expression that Eddie wants to hide from. “Only if you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Nothing,” Eddie says immediately. Too quickly, and he can see Buck knows it.

Raising his eyebrows, Buck closes the book and rests it on his lap. “Eddie.”

“Leave it.” Eddie’s not angry, he’s _exhausted_.

Shifting, wincing when it jars his leg, Buck manages to shuffle around, until he press against Eddie. Touching Eddie’s face, Buck strokes a thumb over Eddie’s cheek. “Eddie. I can see you’re hurting.”

Eddie breathes out, shaky, and takes Buck’s hand. It takes a minute, two. Stroking Buck’s fingers, tracing his knuckles and the back of his hand, Eddie tries to find the words. “I can’t sleep. I—”

Buck waits.

Eddie feels his face shift, and his eyes burn. He can’t _breathe_.

“Hey,” Buck says, tugging Eddie in. He presses their foreheads together. “Eddie, sweetheart, _talk to me_.”

 _I am seen_. Eddie chokes as he starts to cry, burying his face in Buck’s neck. Buck cradles his head, whispers words in his ear that Eddie can’t make up. “I can’t sleep. I’m not hungry. I can’t even—god, Buck, you could have died.”

When Eddie’s tears stop, Buck strokes his hair away from his forehead, rubs along Eddie’s jaw, even against the stubble. “We didn’t. Chris and I, we’re here, Eddie, with you. We’re in one piece. Mostly.”

“Don’t,” Eddie pleads.

“Ssh, it’s okay,” Buck soothes. Any other time, Eddie might be irritated by it, but it just makes him feel cared for. “Eddie, I’m here, right here, okay?”

Eddie nods, knows it’s only okay until he goes to sleep again.

“Stay down here with me tonight.” When Eddie opens his mouth, Buck raises his eyebrows. “Eddie, I’m not asking for you. I hate not sleeping next to you as well, you know.”

It’s manipulative but Eddie doesn’t care; he just wants to sleep.

“Okay,” he says gently. “Okay.”

For the first time since he brought them both home, Eddie sleeps the whole night through.

_Guilt isn’t always an appropriate response, but it doesn’t care about that._

_It can be a hard emotion to kick. I’ve already talked about it here, about why I felt—feel—guilty about the avalanche._

_I should know better, and yet._

_B and my son were in danger and even as part of the local Search and Rescue, I felt useless._

_I felt guilty._

_A guilt that, eventually, gets found out, even when you’re trying your best to hide it._

“Eddie,” Buck says loudly. He’s obviously been saying Eddie’s name a couple of times.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your head at?”

Eddie blinks, realizes he’s mid-clean in the kitchen and turns to the doorway, where Buck’s propped up against the doorjamb. “What are you doing up?”

“I’ve been yelling for you,” Buck says, and even if he’s irritated, he lets Eddie lead him back to the couch. “Where’s Chris?”

“With Harry and Bobby,” Eddie says. “What did you need?”

“A drink,” Buck says, sounding embarrassed.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Buck’s eyebrows raise, probably at Eddie’s tone. “What’s your problem?”

Eddie waves a hand. “You sound embarrassed every time you ask for something, like I don’t mind getting it for you. Looking after you is the least I owe you.”

There’s silence.

 _Shit_. “I mean—”

“You owe me,” Buck repeats.

Eddie swallows. “Buck—”

“Why,” Buck says, “do you think you owe me?”

Eddie opens his mouth to tell Buck to forget it but what comes out instead is, “I didn’t pray for you.”

Another silence.

Buck stares at him, jaw tight, expressionless.

“Buck.”

Letting out a slow breath, Buck says, “explain.”

The words come spilling out; Eddie tells him about getting the call, about begging for Chris, about finding Chris.

“I forgot about you,” Eddie blurts out. “I was so focused on Chris that I forgot about you and I hate myself for it because I should have—”

“Done exactly what you did,” Buck snaps. “Eddie, jesus, did you really think I’d rather you focused on me instead of Chris?”

Eddie doesn’t know how to answer that. Buck looks pissed, and every time he’s imagined Buck finding out, this is not how he thought it would go. “I—”

“Shut up,” Buck says, and Eddie does. “Chris is your priority. He should always be your priority. I couldn’t have lived with myself if you had found me and then gone after Chris. Eddie, fuck, you complete idiot. Why are you even—”

“Because I love you!” Eddie says in return, clenching his hands into fists. “I should have thought about you!”

“You do, every single fucking day,” Buck says, eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to put this on yourself. You don’t get to act like a natural disaster is something you have to _fight_ or think you could have changed. You’re not that great, Eddie,” and that hurts. It shouldn’t, it’s so stupid, but it does. Buck grits his teeth. “You were there, on the mountain. That’s enough for me, you understand?”

Eddie bites at his bottom lip. “What if it’s not enough for me?”

“What?”

“What if it’s not enough for me to just be there? Do you think I could survive losing you?”

“Yes,” Buck says. “Yes, you could have, because you would have had _Chris_.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie snaps. “You don’t get to decide how I feel.”

“Why?” Buck says, raising his eyebrows. “You decided for _me_ how I feel about this.”

That doesn’t even make sense. “That doesn’t make sense, I didn’t—”

“You decided,” Buck says carefully, “that I didn’t wanna know about your guilt. That I had to recover and get better and not realize that my boyfriend was guilty over _me_. You don’t think that’s deciding for me?”

Eddie wasn’t. He just wanted— “I asked for Chris to be okay—”

“But not me, I heard you.”

Buck’s tone is final, and Eddie knows he needs to leave. “I’ll call Bobby.”

Frowning, Buck finally looks up. “Eddie, what—”

“I have to go,” Eddie says, and he does what he thought he’d grown out of;

He runs.

_They say you should learn from mistakes, and yet, I keep making the same ones._

_Deciding for people. HIding thing. Running away._

_It takes a strong person to be able to change you. Or, not change you, but give you the courage to shift your life into a new direction, a better one._

_B._

_My strong person. My_ something to hold on to _in the middle of an avalanche._

Eddie’s not hiding.

It’s not classed as hiding if you’ve made a strategic retreat. That’s what he’s telling himself, at least. Buck’s not alone; Athena and Bobby are watching the house, and Chris is there to keep Buck occupied. He won’t even be missed until that night, and by then, he’s hoping he can figure out a way to stop his emotions doing things.

 _You’re an idiot,_ Sophia texts.

 _Edmundo Diaz, don’t make me drive from NY,_ from Adrianna.

 _Your order has been delivered_ , from Amazon.

Eddie can’t remember what he ordered. When he checks, he sits on a log, tracing his finger over the blanket. It’s supposed to be soft, one of the largest they had on the site, and he thinks about draping it over Buck, making sure he’s warm. Eddie swallows around the lump in his throat. Part of him wants to call Buck, but his phone doesn’t have a signal. It never does on the trail; it’s one of the reasons he likes walking here so much.

Heading back towards town, Eddie clutches his phone in his hand, focuses on it—and the path ahead—until he gets signal back. Immediately, his phone lights up with a couple of messages, and a few missed calls. They’re all from Buck, who picks up on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

“On the trail,” Eddie says. “I’m sorry, is everything okay—”

“I’m so mad at you,” Buck says, and Eddie closes his eyes. Oh, so nothing’s changed. It’s fine, he can— “But I want you to come home. The blanket’s here and I need you.”

“Buck—”

“Eddie,” Buck says, sounding exasperated. “Being mad means you get to make up. Please, come home. Chris and I need you.”

When Eddie finally makes it through the door, he can hear Chris and Buck talking in the living room. There’s the smell of casserole, and Eddie frowns. “Did you cook?”

“Athena and Bobby were here,” Buck says pointedly, after asking Chris to grab a movie. “Don’t think I don’t know why they were here.”

“You’re still mad,” Eddie says, and hovers awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Buck sighs, patting the couch next to him. Eddie casts a glance at Chris, who’s putting on a Disney movie he doesn’t recognize, and perches on the edge of the seat. Buck lets out a huff, drags Eddie backwards. When Buck’s satisfied, he waits for Chris and then arranges the blankets over them all.

“Dilemma,” Buck says, gesturing at the food on the coffee table.

Eddie snorts, finally feels himself letting go of the tension. He shuffles around, grabbing trays from beside the couch and passing out their dinner in turn.

Buck waits until the movie’s started and Chris is engrossed. “I _am_ mad at you. That doesn’t mean I’m angry, or that I wanted you gone.”

“I haven’t done anything right,” Eddie says quietly. When Buck opens his mouth, he shakes his head. “No, let me,” he manages. “I feel like I didn’t do it right. Focusing on Chris, realizing you—thinking that I was gonna lose you and then this, helping you. I haven’t even done that properly. I’m trying, Buck, but everything feels like it’s so far away from me and I can’t reach it.”

When he’s done, Buck’s quiet for a moment, the movie washing them over them both. Finally, Buck takes Eddie’s hand. It makes it difficult to eat, but when Buck still doesn’t say anything, Eddie shoves some casserole on his spoon one handed.

“I love you, Eddie.” Buck meets his eyes. “That means the bad parts and the good parts. This? Is not a bad part. There’s no right way to deal with trauma. You taught me that.”

It shocks Eddie into a laugh.

“Ssh,” Chris says, and Eddie smothers his laughter.

Buck’s grinning. He leans in, kisses Eddie’s neck. “I know I can’t stop you feeling guilty, but I don’t blame you.”

“Buck—”

“I don’t,” Buck says forcefully. “You did everything you were supposed to. I love you, Eddie Diaz, and I won’t let you hate yourself for this.”

“That,” Eddie says quietly, truthfully, “might take a while.”

Buck smirks. “I don’t know if you know this, but I have a lot of time on my hands.”

_B, I know you’re reading this._

_I’m sorry. I know, but I am._

_Thank you._

_I love you._

Eddie finishes off the blog post and posts, making sure to check the photos uploaded properly and that comments are open; people tend to send messages when they need help.

“You done?”

Buck’s standing in the doorway.

Wait.

“You got the cast off without me?”

“You were working,” Buck says, limping across the room. He’s tentative on his feet, but he leans down, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You always can,” Eddie says quietly.

They lapse into a quiet silence, staring at each other in Eddie’s monitor. Buck’s making soothing motions down Eddie’s neck and he hums in the back of his throat. He’s missed this, he realizes, the quiet intimacy. Eddie’s been carrying them both while Buck’s been laid up, and he hasn’t minded, but it’s nice to have Buck back.

“I love you,” Eddie says, turning in his seat.

Buck smiles gently, scratches his fingers through Eddie’s stubble, which is slightly longer than it was. “I love you too. _And_ your stubble.”

Eddie snorts. “Don’t start. I jerked you off this morning and Chris is in the house.”

Laughing, Buck leans down for a kiss. It drifts, lazy kissing while Buck strokes his hair, and Eddie wraps his fingers in Buck’s flannel shirt.

When they part, Buck looks over Eddie’s shoulder. “Move it, I have a blog post to read.”

“Nope,” Eddie says, tugging Buck towards the door. “We’re going out to Bobby’s. People stopped bringing food around a few days ago and we’re fresh out.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, through laughter, “we have to buy groceries.”

“Nope,” Eddie says. “Bobby’s. Grocery shopping tomorrow. Then you can help Vera with her beams.”

“I have more days left,” Buck protests. Then, seeing the look on Eddie’s face says, “No.”

“Her _beams_ apparently help deal with left over pain.”

“It’s not MDMA, Eddie!” Buck yells, and Eddie jogs down the last of the steps, laughing. “Eddie!”

_Footnote: Beams is, apparently, slang for MDMA. Don’t do drugs, kids._


End file.
